To the Ex;
With you, my dear I don’t agree.
We waste all of this time doing the pointless, rote motion things that we’re supposed to.
So, when will we get down to what we wanted in the first place?
Did we ever decide what that was?
I do not wish to be involved with your cruelty or your coldness.
I want the warmth again.
The warmth of the arms, the body, I want the warmth of his voice and his eyes.
The cold wind, the icy stars, and the warmth of the affection.
Don’t think now, that I am pleading for sexual attention; we both know what happened when you pushed that, and now, because of you, who controlled me for a while I’m definitely not in the market for a cheap fuck.
Also as a result of your deceptions and whorish ways, he and I were enabled to have that lovely conversation that night.
He wanted to kill you, and only I and his infant daughter were holding him back.
To The Current Romantic Interest;
You said it was on your heart, you had to tell me.
But you let me get away.
Did you get scared?
Why the hell did you change the subject?
You just trailed off…started talking about darkness and beauty
And enthralled me with the magnificent rhythms of your movement,
Your voice, and we stopped talking about what was relevant
And drifted away for a while and then, all of a sudden, two hours had gone by.
And I wasn’t going to be able to lie about that much time.
You hugged me, I wanted so much more, and I went home and you went to sleep.
I stayed up thinking about you and wondering what you were thinking about me.
And I wait for the call, and it never comes.
I pray everyday for her blood of forgiveness and atonement to flow again, But it doesn’t come on time yet another week and I want to tell him,
Not the him responsible, but the one who will be a comfort,
I’m unable to make my shaking fingers dial the numbers on the phone.
And I want you so bad it hurts.
Only you, my dear, hold the key to easing my pain.
I don’t have to have your kiss, your body;
I just want your voice, your music,
And the warmth and comfort you bring to my sad being.
Third Person View:
He always senses what she’s thinking.
She will never understand it.
It makes him vague, unattainable to her.
He’s always there in the background,
Her surrogate brother,
In her dreams he becomes almost like a god.
Omniscient when it comes to her thoughts and feelings,
Omnipresent in her thoughts, always singing in her soul,
Always just a little out of reach.
Like a god.
He doesn’t want to be deified.
He doesn’t want the attention.
He simply wants to live his life,
Make his music,
And have a family eventually.
He wants to support his mother,
And he wants to help everyone he can.
She always complicates things.
Random things I want to say
I’ve been talking to God a lot lately, but he’s not answering me and the wishing stars have all gone out tonight.
Cross my fingers, hope to die, as all the stars drift in the sky, icy cold and far away, and dread the news of the coming day
I fell for a guy, and his middle name is love.
The phone won’t ring and my hands are trembling too much to pick it up anyway.
I can’t hear anyone but you. I haven’t heard anything in so long.
I miss you today like you missed the wind when it stopped whispering in the trees.
Silence is the worst treatment for a hopeful heart, and you're silently breaking it.